


does it still make a noise

by Nonymos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkward Bucky Barnes, HYDRA Made Them Do It, HYDRA Trash Party, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Hydra Holiday Trash Party Gift Exchange 2020, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Rape Fantasy, Yes it Is, is it still rape if you enjoy it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28431396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonymos/pseuds/Nonymos
Summary: Happy Hydra Holiday! :D
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 69
Kudos: 266
Collections: Hydra Holiday Trash Party Gift Exchange 2020





	does it still make a noise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CruciatusForeplay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruciatusForeplay/gifts).



The Winter Soldier’s been on the team for a couple of months now, but Clint still doesn’t know shit about him except for the fact that he’s never been so attracted to a man.

He knows it’s awkward. This is Cap’s old war buddy, which makes him pretty much untouchable. Plus the words people usually pick to describe Barnes are “creepy”, “menacing”, and “violent”. If they’re feeling uncharitable they might add “greasy”, because of that one pap shot of Barnes’ dark hair slick with blood after a particularly gruesome mission.

Clint doesn’t think any of these words actually apply. First of all, Barnes’ hair is great. It’s honestly great. And second of all Barnes’ just… very quiet. He doesn’t know how to connect with people. Can you blame the guy? The one time he was showering in the commons—on Gruesome Mission Day, trying to get the blood out—and Clint walked in, Barnes fled like a feral cat.

Not fast enough, though. The sinewy muscles in his back and shoulders had burned themselves on Clint’s retina, and that very night he couldn’t keep his fantasies from veering into deeply compromising waters. He’s only human and he’s got a high sex drive, and the Avengers are all pretty decent-looking people, so he’s jerked off over his teammates a few times and thought nothing of it. But that time was different.

What if it was him in the showers. What if Barnes was the one to walk in on him. What if he pinned Clint to the wall, his hand clutching at the back of Clint’s neck, shaking him hard as a pointed warning if he tried to break free. What if his metal fingers slipped down, down, and then up and _into_ him, hard and cold and unyielding, and what if Clint cried out and protested, and what if then Barnes said in that low rasp of his, _It’s too early to squeal—I’m not letting you go till you’ve taken my whole fist—_

It’s terrible. It’s terrible. First of all, Clint sucks at dialogue: it sounds like bad porn. And second of all, Clint can’t be having _rape fantasies_ about the _Winter Soldier._ It’s wrong! It’s wrong on so many levels. He’s still having them, though. All the time. A lot.

Which makes what happens next feel all the more ironic.

*

Clint groans and catalogues his woes as he comes to. Everything hurts, he’s naked, and lying on bare concrete. All this plus his vague memories of the mission add up to: captured by HYDRA. What’s their _deal_ with stripping down their prisoners? Sure, the one time they didn’t Clint garroted three guards with the wire in his collar and waltzed out of the base in twenty minutes flat—Cap didn’t even have time to organize the rescue mission—but still.

The door creaks open. That’s another thing about those bases. Where do they _find_ their doors? Clint knows he’s trying to distract himself from how much this is going to hurt. Seriously, though, they always creak the same way.

Someone grabs him at the neck, and abruptly he realizes how fucked he is, because that’s a metal hand.

“Barnes— _Barnes—”_ His words get stuck in his throat when Barnes lifts him up and slams him against the wall. Clint’s toes can only scrabble at the ground. Intensity’s burning on every feature of Barnes’ face, except for his eyes, haunted by a terrible blankness. They captured him too and, by the looks of it, they had a Chair.

Clint’s starting to choke. Fuck. If he dies like this, Barnes will _never_ forgive himself.

He tries to kick out but Barnes suddenly lets him go and Clint crumples to the ground, coughing and retching, spread out on his stomach. Before he can collect himself, Barnes kneels behind Clint and grabs his thighs, spreading his legs.

Clint stops breathing.

Barnes shoves his metal fingers into him exactly the way Clint fantasized and oh God, he’s already getting hard. Does that make it better? Does that make it worse? On some level he knows this will fuck up him however he feels in the moment, so maybe he doesn’t have to be a Good Rape Victim about this.

But—it’s not just about him. It’s also about Barnes. Clint doesn’t want to rape him _back._

Fucking HYDRA—

Barnes hurts him, shoving deeper without care, and Clint buckles, screwing his eyes shut. He’s never understood why pain lit up his brain like this, but it does. Pleasure’s complicated; if it’s not just right it won’t do the trick. Pain is instant and all-encompassing and you can’t help feeling it deep. You don’t have to be in any kind of special mood, you don’t have to worry about not feeling it enough. It’s there. It’s taking you.

He hears the tinkle of Barnes’ belt, a zipping sound, the rush of fabric being pushed down. They’re not fucking around. This is about hard and fast humiliation. Fuck, Clint just knows HYDRA’s filming this. Maybe broadcasting it live to their teammates.

He’s got to protect Barnes. If they all see him like this, things will be even worse for him.

Drawing on all his core strength, he twists around just before Barnes can skewer him. The Soldier’s nostrils flare; he slams Clint down with a hand on his throat again. He’s—is it wrong to notice how handsome he is _right now?_ Is Clint’s brain just trying to shield him from this entire situation? He doesn’t get why people can’t notice Barnes is gorgeous.

“Hey,” he chokes out. “Hey. It’s fine. Just wanted to see your face.”

The Soldier frowns. His pants are down, and he’s impressively erect. They must have drugged him. Clint’s probably drugged, too; he’s slurring his words and without adrenalin he probably would have passed out again already.

“It’s fine,” Clint repeats, “we can just—fuck, wait wait wait, _no—_ ” With his free hand Barnes grabs Clint’s balls, squeezes them so hard it feels like they’ll burst; Clint screams, scrabbles at the metal grip around his throat.

“I’ll behave! I’ll behave,” he gasps. “Please. Please. I wanted to see your face. Go on. Keep going. Keep going.”

The Soldier’s features quiver again; this isn’t making sense to him. With a rush of impatience he visibly sends the doubts away and lets go of Clint to grab his thighs again.

He’s barely prepped him and there’s no lube; it hurts like a _motherfucker._ On his back like this Clint can’t hide that he’s hard, and he can’t control the sound that comes out of his mouth either. He’s seeing stars, he can barely think for the rush of raw pleasure.

The Soldier stops again; Clint confusedly knows he can’t let him pull out and hooks his legs behind his thighs. Reaching up he draws him down and kisses him, clumsy and sloppy. When he pulls back Barnes looks like—Barnes. For just a second.

Then he hisses between his teeth, forcefully pulls out and brutally flips Clint on his stomach. Then he grabs his hips and enters him again, tearing another scream out of him. Is there blood? Clint hope there isn’t blood. Those kinds of surgeries are the worst.

Barnes crushes him with all his weight, buries himself into Clint to the hilt. It’s so good; he can’t help it; it’s so viscerally good. He can feel Barnes’ hot breath in his ear.

“What happened?” It’s the barest whisper. “Where are we?”

Clint carefully keeps his eyes shut even as Barnes starts thrusting. The motion scrapes his face on the concrete. “HYDRA,” he breathes out. “Got captured.”

“When?”

“Don’t know. Just woke up.”

For a moment Barnes says nothing. When he speaks again there’s a crack in his voice. “I’m sorry. I can’t—stop. I have to make it look like—”

“Keep _going_ ,” Clint gasps. “Fucking keep going. I’m sorry too.”

Barnes doesn’t ask why. He must remember that going by the physical evidence Clint appears to be having a wonderful time. He goes faster and harder, sending more flares of white-hot pain up Clint’s spine until he stops and goes rigid; the idea that he’s coming inside of him abruptly sends Clint over the edge. God, _God,_ it’s good. It’s so fucking good.

After that two HYDRA mooks come into the cell to collect the Soldier and then Barnes kills them, probably. Clint doesn’t know; he’s sinking back into the dark. Blood splatters the concrete in front of him. Yeah, Barnes’ killing them.

*

When he wakes up he’s at the hospital and Barnes’ sitting by his bedside, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Oh great,” Clint says weakly. “We got rescued.”

Barnes jumps. He must have been deep in his thoughts not to notice Clint was waking up.

“Did I get surgery?” Clint slurs.

“You. No.” Barnes always looks scared whenever he has to speak like a human person. “You didn’t. It was just. Scrapes.”

“Okay then. Great. Awesome.” He closes his eyes again.

He can _feel_ poor Barnes gearing up to speak. When he does, it’s like he’s pulling his own teeth.

“I didn’t mean. To hurt you. I...”

“We both know that wasn’t your fault. Me enjoying it, though?” Clint reopens his eyes to wince at him. “Seriously. I’m sorry about that.”

Barnes looks baffled that someone would apologize to him, for any reason, ever. (Other than Steve.) He’s so surprised he’s actually making eye contact.

“Do you not remember me saying that, during?” Clint asks. “Look—I like getting roughed up. And I’ve always liked you. And I knew this wasn’t really, like, you doing it, so maybe that’s why it felt—I don’t know. Either way, I promise you’re fine. We can stop talking about it if you want.”

Barnes looks at him for an entire minute.

Then he says, “You’ve always liked me?”

Clint huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Tall, dark and handsome.”

Barnes doesn’t suddenly kiss him. He doesn’t say that he’s always liked Clint too. But he doesn’t look appalled by Clint’s confession, either. Instead of all that he does something Clint’s never seen him do before: he smiles.

Well, great. Now Clint likes his smile, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Hydra Holiday! :D


End file.
